The Never Ending Games
by Districtbeforeblood
Summary: Katniss has everything she could hope for. At thirty four, her life seems to be complete. Her life is filled with love and joy. Then everything changes. Hope you enjoy, I'm not the best writer but I love the Hunger Games and wanted to write some fanfiction! Rated M for violence. I might be a little paranoid, but I didn't want to risk it!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, and thank you so much for reading my story! I hope you like it! It would means so much to me if you would leave a review for me! Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns everything. I own nothing. I am not taking any credit for her amazing work!**

I have everything I could possibly want right now. Two perfect kids, Maple and Ember. And the best husband anyone could ever wish for. Peeta. I love them more than anything else in the world.

Of course, nothing's perfect.

From time to time I have to sit down and clench Peeta's hand or the leg of a table or the post of the bed while my mind flows with memories. Memories of Prim. Or the games. Or the war. Or Gale. Some times are worse than others. Sometimes I just freeze, squeezing my eyes shut, while I breathe deeply and concentrate on not falling to pieces. Other times I fall to the ground hyperventilating, my body convulsing. Often that leads to me screaming. Peeta's good at calming me down, but sometimes it can take a while. But those tend to only happen when the kids aren't in the house. When they are in the house, I can usually control it by biting down on something, tying knots in a piece of rope, while Peeta wraps his arms around me.

And even though it's been many years since Peeta was tortured and hijacked by the Capitol, he still has an episode now and then. His muscles get taught and he grabs the back of a chair - or whatever happens to be nearby - and a wild look enters his eyes. It usually only lasts a few seconds, but when it goes on for longer, I go over to him and gently talk him out of it. It never lasts too long and he's always able to control it, so it's not a problem.

At thirty four, I still love to hunt. It's not for survival anymore, but we do eat the meat that I don't sell at the Hob. My children beg the same thing they've been asking since they could talk. They want to go into the woods and learn how to hunt. I tell them I will, someday. But I keep putting it off. I know I was very young when my father taught me my skills with a bow, but circumstances are different now. They don't have to fight to keep their family's alive all by themselves.

Even if they can't hunt yet, they've been baking since they knew not to eat the raw eggs. Peeta bakes more than ever, but it's not a solitary thing anymore. He bakes with all of us. It becomes a sort of a project for all of us. Cupcakes today. Cookies tomorrow. I smile.  
Just then Peeta comes up stairs into our room. He grins.

"The kids wanted to bake a cake today. You up for it?" He asks.  
In response I run down the stairs two at a time. He follows me, much slower, due to his prosthetic leg. My two children squeal with delight.  
I'm really NOT a baking person, but it makes Peeta so happy when a pitch in, even if it's only a little. This is where he's the happiest. Baking in the kitchen with me and our two kids. Smiling that goofy grin of his. And seeing him so happy makes me happy too.

After much debate, a chocolate cake is decided on, so we get straight to it. I don't know much - well, anything - about baking. So I just play along and help pour in the flour or separate the egg yolks or whatever. And I have to admit, it is actually rather fun.

Maple wants the cake to be perfect. She's making sure that everything that goes in the batter is exactly the right amount. That it's stirred exactly the right amount, not too little, not too much.

Ember's playing with the measuring cups instead of using them to put the ingredients into the shiny silver bowl. If I were the baker, I would probably be losing my temper. But it's Peeta, so he's just laughing and smiling as he waltzes around the kitchen with the mixing bowl with Ember chasing after him. I grin, my eyes dancing with happiness. Peeta looks over at me, a loving smile on his lips. He dances over and gives me a light kiss on the cheek.

"Maple, could you get me the brown sugar please?" He asks, tousling her hair as he says it. She skips off to get the sugar. When she returns he plants a kiss on her forehead and takes the sugar from her, placing the bowl back on the counter.

"How many cups of sugar?" He asks. She pauses, unsure. He winks at her. "I believe it's three. A sweet cake!" I convince Ember to give up one of the measuring cups, but before I can hand it to Peeta so he can scoop up the sugar, he gasps, frozen in place.

I set the cup down.

"Daddy?" My daughter asks.

I gulp. This isn't good. Peeta has gone back to his torture at the Capitol. Back to tracker jacker venom. Back to confusion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Once again, thanks for reading my story! It means so much to me! Don't feel pressured but I would love it if you would leave a review! Thanks again!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! Suzanne Collins owns everything. I'm just playing with her characters!**

Peeta's eyes glaze over, the wild look taking over his blue eyes. The bag drops from his hands, brown sugar spilling all over the floor. I can see his muscles contracting. His nostrils flare. His fists tighten, his nails digging into his palms.

"Peeta?" I ask cautiously. No answer.

"Peeta?" I ask again. "Peeta, it's me. Katniss. I'm here. It's ok."

He turns in my direction, and walks toward me. I sigh, thinking it's alright. I open my arms, ready to hold him close. But he doesn't collapse in my arms like I thought he would. Instead, I find his hands around my neck. This is all to familiar. But no, Peeta would never hurt me. He makes a noise in the back of his through. A growl. A animal noise. I stiffen. Maple screams, and holds Ember tight to her.

"Daddy! Daddy, NO!" She wails. But to no avail.

His hand comes down from my neck but before I have time to be possibly be relieved he grabs my arm and wrenches it, twists it, into a horribly unnatural position. He is no longer in control. I hear a terrible ripping popping cracking noise. A horrible wave of pain passes through my arm. Then I feel nothing at all. I'm to delirious to know if this is good or bad.

"YOU!" He screams at me. "YOU MUTT, YOU MONSTER, YOU HORRIBLE CREATURE!"

He punches, bites, scratches, yanks, kicks, does almost everything he can to destroy me.

"I WILL KILL YOU! YOU WILL DIE, YOU VILE DEMON!"

The kids back into the wall, eyes wife, to terrified to even scream.

"Mama," Ember whispers desperately. I cannot feel. Cannot see. Almost cannot think.

Peeta's hands twist my limbs, pull my hair, claw my eyes. Then his hands make their way to my neck again. I am teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. His eyes seem to bore into my brain as his fingers slowly tighten.

"Peeta," I have just enough energy to whisper. My eyes pleading. It's barely audible. But he hears it.  
That does it. It breaks him out if it. His hands drop, and his eyes widen, the wild look gone completely. I collapse on the floor, black spots threatening to take over my vision. The more I try to blink them away, the more appear. But my body refuses to shut down. I don't black out. I wish I would. This - this is hell.

"Oh my god," Peeta whispers. Then again, louder. "Oh my god!" His face is frozen in horror. "What have I done. What have I done. Oh my god. No. Katniss!" He drops to his knees, unsure if touching me would worsen my condition.

Just then the door bursts open, and Haymitch staggers in, half drunk.  
"Whaz going on?" he slurs. Then he sees me. His mouth forms an O. "Wha happened? Wha the hell did you do to her?" Peeta's terrified stare is a good enough answer. "Take her to the hospital. I'll stay here with your kids."

Without further ado Peeta scoops me up and runs out the door with me in his arms. I wonder if this is dying. I don't feel much pain though, so it's not that bad. Luckily the hospital is nearby. My mother works there. He bursts through the door and everyone looks up. One lady shrieks. Someone rushes into the room.

My mother. Her eyes widen, then I see her change. I recognize it as the look she gets when she has a patient that is in terrible shape. Pretty far gone. But... it's also her determined look. The look where she's going to roll up her sleeves and try her hardest. But it's different this time. It's different because I am her daughter.  
"Bring her here, Peeta," she says, her lips forming a tight line of determination. It is then that I know I will come out of this. I may not be the same, but my mother is not going to let me die. Not by a long shot. I know my mother. She won't let me down.

Peeta carries me though several rooms. By the time he stops I am barely holding on. I don't feel him gently set me down. This is a strange buzzing sound in my head. The last thing I see is my mother's furrowed brow. Then everything goes black.


	3. Message to you!

**Hello. Sorry, this isn't an update. **

**I think I'm going to abandon this story. It pretty much sucks, and it hasn't been doing so well. I've barely gotten any views and I haven't gotten ****_any _****reviews. **

**I've written the next few chapters but I don't think I'm going to bother posting them. **

**I just don't know where to go with this story, and like I said, it sucks.**

**If anyone would be kind enough to leave a review with some advice, I would appreciate it so, so much. Anything from advice about what characters to add, what to write about next in this story, or even "This sucks. Instead why don't you write a story about..." **

**Thank you! I'm an beginner, and this was my first story. So I would love ****_any _****advice at all! Bye! **


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